


You're no good for me, but baby i want you

by flamecoloredparadise



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dominance, Drinking, F/F, auto catastrophic reyes, mentions of msr, slightly after the end of season 9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamecoloredparadise/pseuds/flamecoloredparadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully passes the night before she runs away with Mulder in Reyes' bed. How does Reyes cope with Dana's departure? Will her cries bring her back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can contact me here southof-nonorth.tumblr.com

         It was never supposed to be like this. I was never supposed to get attached. It would only be a night shared between two persons, two colleagues, two friends, a night of raw passion, pure lust and pleasure without the expectation of any commitment, without the comlexity of feelings. It was supposed to be a night that would give me the boust to go through with my plan to drop everthing and everyone to follow Mulder, the night that i would regret so much that I would be willing to run away and hide with him, hide from her, hide from the world. It was supposed to be my second chance at life, one life freed from the shadow of the past, one where the death of my father, the assassination of my sister, the death of my daughter, my abduction, my cancer, the fact that i gave up William, my what ifs would no longer be a part of. That would be the last night I ever put my gards utterly down and anybody saw me at my lowest point, completely vulnerable. It would be like 'marking the moment' as I had done years before. I would reborn. But this time, the markings would be inscripted on my heart and on my brain, always ready to make their presence known, unlike my tattoo which was well hidden under layers of clothing and easily neglected. 

        And my plan had worked, because, when she dropped in my arms exhausted from the pleasure that was ravishing her body, we laid in her bed and she breathed out **_"Don't leave me, stay with me"_** as she fell asleep in my arms and that was the moment I realized that I wanted to jump out of my skin, run away as far as I could get from this bedroom. And I did run. I left her sleeping. I interpreted what I was feeling as the regret I was so achingly seeking. 

        But I was so wrong, it bewilders me how much I had lost control over my self. It was not regret that I was feeling, but fear, dread that even for a moment I considered to fulfill her plea, to stay with her forever. Her sincerity frightned me so much that it sent me right into Mulder's arms, I got this feeling that everything could happen, that's why I left. I had this sensation of falling- tumbling down the great hole like Alice. But the landing was hard, inevitable and there was no hookah smoking caterpilar to help me, show me how to use corectly what was available to me, prompt to make sense of it myself. Mulder and I share something special together, something almost sacred that some peolpe could only dream to experience, but it was only fueled by his passion for his work. I needed to get out of this fantasy that I called a second life as I realised that we would never be Mr. and Ms. Petrie, the picket fence life was not destined for me, as I realised that those markings took completely over my heart, dominated my thoughts, begged to be replaced with new ones. That night was my only consolation during this period of mood swings that eventually hit rock bottom. That night gave me the courage to pursuit the life I never chose, the life i was scared to choose.

        In the end, it was bound to be like this, me making the wrong choice, because what's life with a little self inflicted suffering? It was bound to be like this, me dropping everything to search for her. Because, when it came to Monica I could not trust myself. Monica was not simple. You could not just walk away from her. The memory of her, of her eyes that challenge you to make them shine, of her stare that penetrates your soul and can make you ache for her, these memories scar you, hunt you till you crawl back to her for more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it, I'm gonna post the next chapter soon

             That night was the only thing that was keepnig me sane, but it was driving Monica crazy. In my selfish, self-righteous mind, I could have never imagined what impact my actions would have in her life. I certainly did not expect to find myself following her every night, from bar to bar, watching her getting pissed drunk. The most unsettling thing was that every night she would not leave the bar alone, but with a different redhead, a bottle of scotch at hand, heading towards a cheap motel room. My heart ached knowing how much I had wounded her, but, for the past week, I couldn't bring myself to bring an end to this vicious cycle. 

             I rented the room next to hers and every night I would listen to her coming, screaming my name towards the night sky, letting her screams travel through space and time hoping that I would hear them from wherever I was, that I would come back to her. **_"But, baby, I am right here"._** The redhead would always leave tear-stained and humiliated. I wanted to console them and tell them that it wasn't their fault, I had broken her heart, her soul was black and blue.... But I wasn't that strong. I wanted to go to the next room and make the fantasy real for her, show her that she didn't need to drink in order to alter the reality. And that opportunity came when, one night, i followed her to a store. She was wearing high black heels, a short black skirt and a tight white blouse. Everybody's head snapped to attention as she walked by. It was awe-stricking how determined she looked, how capable of hidding her sorrow behind her sparkling, inviting eyes that denied to shed the tears that dwelled there much too often. I watched, ready to pull my gun even if someone considered touching her. _I wan't supposed to get possesive_. She got a bottle of whiskey and she headed back straight to the motel room.

             Tonight was the chance I was looking for: she would be alone and, at least, not drunk till she loses conscience given that she had already started sipping from the whiskey bottle as she was heading back. I thought that maybe she alreay had company waiting for her in her room, but I'm not gonna get cold feet now. I need to show her that I didn't abandon her forever. I did abandon her, but not forever. I came back.

             I walk towards her room. Her door is left ajar for whoever to walk in. I can see her legs lying on the bed, slightly bent on the knees, her heels still on. I walk in, close the door behind me and lock it, putting the key in the back pocket of my pants. I walk further in and the scent of liquor, cigarette smoke and something else I can't quite put my finger on hits me hard. I continue to walk and I hear familiar moans. I start to quiver, visions of what is probably happening a few feet from where I'm standing flooding my brain. I come face to face with what I was expecting and a jolt shots right through me. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen: Monica lying on the bed, skirt pooled over her hips, left hand burried deep inside of her while her other hand's holding a gun pointed surprisingly steadily at me given that she has already downed a quarter of a  bottle of whiskey. She has forgone underwent. Her hot, haunting, sweet scent heavy in the air, tempting you to come and have a taste, a taste that you're gonna crave for the rest of your life.

            She opens her eyes to find out who the intruder is and as she registers my presence and recognizes me , the increase of her spead and the moan that she tries to conceal do not elude me, they give away just what I was suspecting: she is thinking of me. _As if she could think of anybody else._ Nobody has hurt her like I have. There's no remedy for memory. The image before me extites me as much as it scares me. I am so mystified that I walk over by the bed standing directly in front of the gun, pressing the barrel to my abdoment. I'm not afraid that she's gonna hurt me. On the contrary, I'm afraid that that she wants me so much that she's gonna forgive me without exteriorising first her true feelings of pain and desappointment. But, Monica is never predictable. 

            She stills her movements. She starts inching the gun towards my head. I want everything she's willing to give me. I want to see reflected in her eyes that passion that i have witnessed every time that she does something she truly likes. And if she wanted to hurt me right now, I was ready to comply. _To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die_. I had already killed her that night when i walked out on her. I made her lose her trust in people. I made her numb, looking for my duplicates in order to feel alive again. That's what I was here for, to make her feel again. And if that meant that we had to hurt each other, then so be it. I'm wiling to take her pain, take, take, take......


End file.
